


'Lady' in Red

by severity_softly



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Crossdressing Reid, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5673016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severity_softly/pseuds/severity_softly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team only has one viable option to lure their unsub out of a club and away from his potential victims: Reid. (Originally published January 2009. Crossdressing!Reid!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Lady' in Red

**Author's Note:**

> I love putting my pretty boys in dresses. <3 Betaed by innerslytherin.

_“Beauty is ten, nine of which is dressing.”  
~ Azerbaijani proverb_

"We look like federal agents," Reid pointed out, frowning.

" _Hotch_ looks like a federal agent," Prentiss corrected.

"Okay, fine, but we don't look like them," he said, and turned to look at the cork board.

"Reid's right. We go in like this and we'll set off his red flags," Hotch said. "We'll put a lot of people in danger."

"We need to lure him out and away from the other men," Rossi said.

Reid was still frowning at a crime scene photos on the board, but after a moment, he noticed the table had gone silent. When he looked back, everyone was staring at him.

"What?" After several heartbeats, he realized they all, at once and without discussion, had nominated _him_ to do the luring. They'd nominated _him_ to walk straight into the drag club Dalton, their unsub, was frequenting and try to seduce a serial killer.

"Wait, why _me_?" he exclaimed.

Rossi was smirking.

"Why not Prentiss or JJ?" Reid pressed.

"I seriously hope you're not implying either one of us look like men in women's clothing," JJ said.

Reid's mouth dropped open. He looked at Morgan. Okay, no, Morgan couldn't do it. Not only could he not pull off drag, but Dalton wasn't killing black men. He glanced to Rossi, who was still fucking _smirking_ , and decided Rossi was another no. He didn't fit the age range, and the thought of him in drag was just plain disturbing. 

Reid's eyes fell on Hotch after a moment.

"Why not you?" he said.

"I don't look good in heels," Hotch said, without hesitation or inflection of any kind in his voice. He didn't even look up. Everyone but Rossi and Reid laughed softly, but Hotch just went on, "Besides, you fit the victimology the best." He looked at JJ. "We need to get clothes that fit Reid, and we need to do it before Dalton finds his next victim."

"Wait--"

"And glitter; don't forget the glitter," Morgan said, grinning.

" _Wait_ ," Reid said, glowering at Morgan.

"What? You scared?" Morgan asked, his gaze a challenge.

Reid's mouth fell open again. "No, I'm not _scared_!" he snapped.

"Good, then we're in agreement," Hotch said, and stood to leave the conference room.

Spencer was left gaping after him.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Reid was standing in the conference room in a red dress that that wrapped elegantly over one shoulder and fell just above his knees. It clung so tightly to his wiry frame that he was surprised it was so comfortable. Of course, it helped that the material was so stretchy, and it wasn't awful, except that it was tight enough over his hips and groin that his, er, _manhood_ was readily apparent underneath. Reid had a feeling that was intentional.

"Hold _still_ ," JJ muttered and gripped his chin. "Close your eyes."

"You're going to stab me with that thing," he protested.

"Not if you hold still," JJ insisted, and Reid obeyed and closed his eyes for her to put eyeliner on him, trying not to flinch at the poke of the pencil against his lids.

"He needs a purse," Rossi said, which fanned Reid's irritation.

"You can stop now," he grumbled.

"Okay," JJ said, a laugh in her voice, "I _am_ going to stab you with this if you frown like that."

"Is there anywhere else _you_ can think of to conceal your gun, Spencer?" Rossi continued. "Because I can only think of one other place, and not only would it be uncomfortable, but it would be very difficult to retrieve with any kind of efficiency... Or modesty."

" _God_ ," Reid said, and felt his face go hot. "Can you all try not to be so amused?"

"Oh, you'd be enjoying it if it were one of us," Prentiss said, and Reid had to admit to himself that she was probably right.

"Nice legs, by the way, pretty boy," Morgan said.

Reid had shaved. Then decided he didn't envy women in the least.

He hadn't wanted to, but Prentiss had assured him that she'd know plenty of drag queens, and they'd know in two seconds that he'd never done this before if he walked in to the club with his legs au naturale. (Everyone had stared at her for a moment, but eventually let the question of how Prentiss had come to know so many drag queens drop without mention.)

"Really, no kidding," Rossi agreed with Morgan, and Reid growled, but when he opened his eyes again, Rossi's expression was more appraising than anything else. 

Reid glanced at Hotch to see a somewhat possessive look on his face that no one else was paying attention to. His eyes went back to Rossi after a moment, whose own gaze was crawling up Spencer's thigh. It was almost uncomfortable, until Rossi said, "The effect loses something near the hips, though."

" _Dave_ ," Hotch said quickly. 

A crooked smile bloomed on Rossi's face as he looked up to Hotch, and Morgan just started laughing behind him. Prentiss started laughing next, but JJ was at least good enough to cover her laugh with a series of coughs.

She cleared her throat. "I'm just surprised you're still on your feet in those heels," she said.

Spencer was still frowning, but he was thankful for the shift in topic. "Men are actually better suited to wear heels than women are," he pointed out. "Narrower hips mean your weight is more centered when you walk."

"Are we ready?" Hotch asked.

"Lipstick," JJ said, and instructed Reid to open his mouth so she could put it on.

After a few moments, it started to feel weird. He went to close his mouth, but JJ gripped his chin again. 

"Ish dish shupposhed to feew wike ish... harrdenink?" he asked.

"Let it dry, and we'll gloss it."

Reid made a questioning noise.

"Colorstay," Prentiss said. "So you won't smear it everywhere and give away that you don't really know how to wear lipstick."

Reid let out a self-pitying whimper, and Morgan chuckled while JJ finished with the gloss.

Morgan draped an arm around Reid's shoulder to guide Reid toward the door, and Reid felt a little naked with his one bare shoulder pressed against Morgan's t-shirt. 

"Come on, beautiful boy, let's teach you how to flirt."

 

 

It wasn't long before they were sitting outside the club. Reid was staring at it dubiously, his frown marring the overall look.

"Remember we can hear you," Hotch said. "Try to get him to take you out the back entrance. There'll be fewer people there."

"Eye contact, smile--"

"I know how body language works," Reid told JJ.

"You look great," she said.

His frown deepened.

"No, you do," Hotch said, and Reid snorted and got out of the car. Once he balanced himself on his heels, he headed easily into the club.

 

 

Somehow, Reid thought he didn't exactly hold the same authority with a gun when he was wearing a slinky dress... not that he _ever_ felt like his thin frame was much use for that, but still, he looked ridiculous. Or so he assumed. No one had actually afforded him the opportunity to look in a mirror.

When he got Dalton out the back door of the club under the pretense of a good hard fuck against the back wall of the building (and Dalton slicing Reid open from groin to sternum once it was over, Reid knew), the team was there. Morgan had Dalton cuffed as soon as Hotch talked him into surrendering. 

At least the get-up seemed worth it after the fact, even if it was embarrassing. 

Hotch took off his suit jacket and handed it to Reid without looking at him, and Reid took it gratefully and pulled it on, covering himself a bit.

"You're no fun," Prentiss complained, and Reid was half inclined to flip her off before he got back in the SUV.

*****

When they got back to Quantico--the case had been close to home this time--Reid walked straight to the conference room to change into his own clothes. Aaron had lingered in the bull pen for a short moment, but then inclined his head toward the conference room. "I should go talk to Reid," he murmured. They were all, in spite of their teasing, worried Reid might take the fact that he was chosen too personally. He might even have truly gotten his feelings hurt by the teasing (sometimes with Reid it was hard to tell), even if Hotch knew the team had teased in an attempt to _ease_ tension, rather than heighten it.

That wasn't the only reason Hotch wanted to go after Reid, however.

He caught up with his lover just as Reid was pulling the door shut. Hotch caught it and smiled at the surprised look Spencer gave him when he turned around. He glanced along the wall. The blinds were still shut from Spencer changing in here earlier. Good. Hotch locked the door behind himself.

"I wasn't lying when I said you looked good."

Reid's eyebrows lifted. "I wouldn't have thought you would like this sort of thing."

"I don't," Hotch said. It was strange. He honestly didn't understand it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to inspect it very closely either. He'd never been attracted to this sort of thing before, but _Spencer_ was _sexy_ like this.

Reid stared at him for a moment, then started to turn to change, but before Reid could get away and transform back into his normal (though still beautiful) self, Hotch grabbed his suit jacket, which Reid was still wearing, by the lapels and pulled Reid back for a lingering kiss.

Reid stared at him for a moment when the kiss broke, then breathlessly said, "Perhaps because you're primarily heterosexual, seeing someone you care about--"

"Love," Hotch interrupted.

"...Seeing someone you love in such a blatant imitation of femininity is triggering desires you haven't felt in a while."

"I think it's because you're wearing my jacket over it all; you look even better now than you did before," Hotch said. _Oh_. There was the reason right there. He walked Reid back to the table and nudged him until Reid climbed back to sit on it.

"A symbolic gesture of protection. You know I feel... vulnerable like this," he whispered, the last words sounding forced. "You're covering me."

"Mmm," Hotch hummed in acknowledgment, then looped his arm around Reid's waist, pressing him back a bit and trailing his lips over Reid's jaw. He pulled back after a moment to take in the sight of Spencer. God, he was gorgeous. No matter what the reason, Hotch couldn't deny that deep red lips and smoky eyes gave Reid a mysterious, exotic air. And Reid really should wear red more often. He never did. 

Suddenly, the worry that had plagued Hotch all night as he listened to Reid and Dalton talk in the club resurfaced. "He didn't touch you, did he?"

"No," Reid whispered.

Hotch wasn't entirely sure it was true, but he leaned back in to Spencer, kissing along his jaw and throat. "Is this okay?" he murmured.

"Yeah," Spencer said.

Hotch didn't hesitate to push Spencer's knees apart to move between them then. Spencer's breath hitched when it sent the bottom of his dress sliding up to bunch at the crease of his thigh. He was staring at Hotch, looking somewhere between shocked and excited, but his pupils were huge.

"Weird. Strange. But it's fine. Better than fine." 

Hotch couldn't take his eyes off Reid's lips. He almost wished he could smear that lipstick, make Reid look as debauched as possible as he writhed under Hotch--which he'd be doing soon, if Hotch got his way--in that slinky little dress. Reid tilted his head back as Hotch's lips fixed to his throat again, and wrapped a leg around Hotch's. But then something changed, because Reid stilled and the next words out of his mouth were, "You don't still wish you were with a woman, do you?"

Hotch stilled too, a funny chill washing through him, and then pulled back to look at Reid, frowning. "What?"

"You never do this while were at work, and suddenly I dress like a girl and you want me right on the conference table?" he said.

 _On the conference table_ , Hotch thought. He shouldn't be doing this. It was a thought that hadn't left his mind, but it sprang to the forefront again.

Hotch watched Spencer for a moment, sliding his hand up a thigh, Reid's shaven skin nearly silky under his hand, which made Hotch's resolve to stop weaken. It sent a shiver through him, and drew his hand further up Reid's leg until he could press his thumb against Reid's erection, which was apparent through his thin underwear. Reid sucked in a breath, and Hotch knew he was getting lost again.

He looked up to meet Spencer's gaze, smiling softly even as his gaze was hungry, and leaned in to whisper in Spencer's ear. "I like this. For whatever reason... and I don't exactly have the necessary items to recreate this look when you come over tonight; I somehow doubt you have dresses hidden in the back of your closet." He scraped his teeth against Spencer's earlobe, and Spencer shivered. "But I can stop if you're uncomfortable."

Spencer visibly relaxed, albeit slowly, and when Hotch leaned in again, he pressed his own hardness to Spencer's thigh so Spencer could feel how excited he was. 

"No. Don't stop," Spencer whispered after several heartbeats. "This might be the most dangerous, daring thing I ever get you to do at the office."

Hotch blinked at him for a moment, and then his lips pulled into a smile and he started to laugh, leaning in and nosing along Spencer's jaw. "Probably," he murmured. "Aren't you glad you agreed to this?"

Spencer pushed Hotch back to meet his gaze, his own glinting. "I didn't actually ever agree."

"Mmm," Hotch replied, gazing at Spencer. Soft brown locks were falling down around Reid's face, framing it perfectly. "Consider this payback. Or maybe praise for a job well done?" he whispered, and kissed Reid hard, his mouth demanding until Spencer whimpered. Hotch pressed his hand more firmly against Reid's erection. "Mostly, I just think you're so incredibly sexy like this."

Reid snorted, but then gasped when Hotch shifted and thrust against him, their cocks pressing through the fabric between them. "God," he gasped. "Here, let me--"

Reid started to tug at Hotch's coat to pull it off, but Hotch caught his wrists. "Like this," he murmured, and started to tug Spencer's underwear down. Spencer's cock sprang free, and he gasped again.

"This is the last thing in the entire world I thought I'd wind up doing today," he panted, but let his underwear slide down his legs until it fell off one leg and got stuck against the straps of the second high heel. When Hotch leaned down and licked a stripe up Spencer's cock, though, Spencer seemed to completely forget to kick it off.

Aaron closed his lips over the head of Spencer cock, licking and sucking at the little drops precome and flicking his tongue at Spencer's slit. Aaron quickly pulled open his pants as he watched Spencer thrash, barely containing the moans and whimpers, one ruby lip caught in his teeth. They didn't have much time, not if they didn't want to look to suspicious, so Hotch sucked Spencer into his mouth fully, groaning around him at the stifled noises it pulled from Spencer's throat, and then pulled back to spit into his palm.

His now-freed cock was slick a moment later, his boxers pushed down and his pants hanging off his hips. Aaron pulled the bottom of his shirt to the side and then pressed against Spencer's entrance. "Okay?" he managed.

Spencer had lifted his head to watch Hotch, his eyes a little wide at the lack of preparation, even if they both knew he could take it. He liked it, actually, when Hotch was rougher, Hotch knew, but Hotch was usually more careful than Spencer wanted--partially because even if Spencer like a little pain, Hotch didn't like inflicting it... but also because he loved to get Spencer begging for more as Hotch teased him.

"Yes, yes," Spencer whispered, and then Hotch was pressing inside and Spencer was arching against the table, he skin squeaking against the table's hard, shiny surface as he scooted across it a bit. 

Aaron covered Spencer's lips with his own, swallowing the string of whimpers and moans and little pained cries that the rough entry had caused. He stilled inside of Spencer, smoothing his tongue over Spencer's until the tension in Spencer's body started to settle again. He rocked his hips when he knew it was safe, but it dragged another moan from Spencer, so Aaron continued kissing Spencer. One kiss melted into the other, each one growing in passion and hunger until Aaron had built to full speed.

Aaron's toes were curling in his shoes, and when he thought Spencer had his voice under control, Aaron kissed down his throat, savoring the taste of Spencer's skin, the rise of Spencer's Adam's apple under his tongue. He gripped Spencer's hips hard as he kissed lower, then drew his lips and nose along the soft fabric covering Spencer's chest, a whiff of his own cologne lingering on his jacket--God, and that was still the sexiest part of all of this. 

"Should let you wear my clothes more often," Hotch managed, his voice strangled as he abandoned himself in Spencer body, and then he bit at Spencer's nipple though the thin fabric of the dress. Spencer made a high-pitched noise, then bit his lip hard until it dissolved into harsh panting. The fabric pinched in Hotch's teeth was damp under Hotch's tongue by the time Spencer's nipple hardened, and Aaron flicked his tongue over the trapped nub, the fabric making it feel rougher than it should.

Spencer made a strangled noise, his entire body tensing and clenching tightly around Aaron. Aaron gasped, forgetting Spencer's nipple and surging into him a few times before his rhythm faltered. Then he was stilling and coming inside of Spencer, his nerves exploding with breathtaking quickness.

He collapsed forward, gasping for air and pressed his face to Spencer's neck. "God, Spencer. God... So sexy."

"Mmm," Spencer replied, sounding amused and dazed all at the same time, and then he turned to press his cheek to Aaron's hair. He made a disappointed noise when Aaron pulled out, but Aaron kissed him quickly and reminded him they needed to be fast.

Aaron's body was still heavy and singing with his own release when he swooped down and swallowed Spencer's cock in one swift movement. Spencer gasped and arched, his fingers moving immediately to Aaron's hair where he let his hand rest atop Aaron's bobbing head.

Aaron couldn't keep his eyes off Spencer as he shifted into every swirl of Aaron's tongue around his shaft, and every tiny scrape of teeth. Spencer's eyes were half lidded on Aaron for a while, but then they dropped shut, and Spencer dropped his head back, panting and moaning softly. Aaron's jacket was slipping off Spencer's bare shoulder, and Aaron wasn't sure he'd ever seen Spencer look quite this sultry, and then Spencer's hips jerked and he came with a stifled cry.

Aaron pulled back, and then had to fight a laugh when Spencer slumped back against the table, either not noticing or not caring when his head thunked against the wood.

Aaron wished he had a camera (not that Spencer would have ever let him take a picture). Or maybe an eidetic memory. He never wanted to forget the image in front of him. Spencer's dress was bunched at his waist, his body spent and limp as his chest rose and fell fast. Aaron's jacket hung open around him, and Spencer's palm was pressed to his forehead as he tried to catch his breath, a lazy smile curling his painted lips.

"God, Spencer," Aaron whispered, and Spencer's smile widened. He was obviously too sated for the embarrassment to hit him again, not yet.

Aaron sighed regretfully, and leaned over him, kissing him slowly. "We can't linger. I've already been in here too long."

"I was inconsolable," Spencer mumbled, and pulled him down for another kiss. "You just couldn't leave me like that, could you?"

"Spencer--"

"My nipple's cold," Spencer added, rubbing at the wet spot on his dress, then he blinked his eyes open, and looked at Aaron. "We should have sex on the conference table more often."

"Technically," Aaron replied, tugging Spencer up to a seated position, "you were the only one on the conference table."

"Semantics." 

Aaron hummed a thoughtful noise and started to push his shirt back into his open pants before pulling them back up. Spencer finally moved to cover himself, though he just sort of stared dazedly down at the underwear still dangling from one high heeled foot, then hummed a thoughtful noise.

"What?" Aaron asked, brushing his clothes down to be sure they were straight.

"I'm just wondering if there's anything I can do to top this," Spencer said, and looked up and met Aaron's gaze, a wry smile twisting his lips.

Aaron's eyebrows lifted. "Top this?" he asked, then held his hand out. "Need my jacket back."

Spencer made an unhappy noise but stood, taking the time to pull his underwear back up and his dress down over it before peeling out of Aaron's jacket. It was funny how different he seemed now, post-orgasm. He was grinning and seemed comfortable and loose, at ease with how he looked. It was a look half way between drop-dead gorgeous and drunk-girl-at-the-party, considering how disheveled he also looked.

"Top this," Spencer repeated, handing the jacket over and pressing himself up against Aaron's chest. "This might have been the first time you ever fucked me in the office, but it won't be the last." Aaron started to laugh, but Spencer just continued. "I just have to figure out how to keep provoking this response."

Aaron kissed him again, more gently than before, and then nudged Spencer back, folding his jacket over his arm. "I need to go."

"Okay, fine, pretend I didn't just say that if you want, but I won't forget."

"You don't forget anything," Aaron said. He looked at Spencer for a long moment, wishing that he had the same problem, as it would probably be weird to ask Spencer to ever do this again.

"And I like experimenting." Spencer was giving him a brilliant, if lazy smile. "We'll call this the control. All I have to do now is start testing out other variables to see how they rate, greater or weaker response."

Aaron stared a him. "If I come in tomorrow and there's a goat in my office, it's over."

Spencer laughed, the sound bursting from his lungs, and immediately wrapped his arms around Aaron and kissed him again. 

 

 

The door clicked softly shut behind Hotch a few moments later, and Reid slumped into a chair at the conference table, then stared at the spot where he'd been sitting on it moments before. It would probably be a good idea to wipe his ass print off the shiny surface, he thought, but at the moment, he still didn't quite feel like moving.

He rubbed a hand over his face, and reached for the little make up bag JJ had given him. It had the make up remover for the lipstick, and a mirror, as well as tissues and other things he would need. He pulled things out carefully and lined then up on the table, then picked up the mirror. At any other time, he might have been hesitant to look at himself like this, but he hadn't looked at himself like this at all yet, and... well, Hotch seemed to like it. He held the mirror up, and then sucked in a breath at his reflection.

It wasn't bad at all, actually. He was still clearly a man, the sharp edge of his jaw made that evident, but there was something... mysterious about the way that he looked like this. Like he was hiding a secret, and not at all like the dark secrets that lingered behind his eyes on a normal basis. This was a good secret, one that spoke of satin sheets, ripped underwear and come dripping from those deep red lips.

 _Oh God_.

He gasped at the sheer audacity of his thoughts and put the mirror face down on his thigh quickly. Cross-dressing was not uncommon among serial killers. He told himself that fiercely. Except... he _wasn't_ a serial killer. He _caught_ serial killers.

So... what was the harm?

He slowly lifted the mirror again and _looked_ , cocking his head, his gaze discerning. Then he tilted the mirror to point down his throat, then over the top of that dress... and then finally to the wet spot where Hotch's lips had been fixed over his nipple moments before.

A slow smile crept across his face.

Maybe this really hadn't been such a terrible idea after all.

 

__

_“A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men to take it off of you.”  
~ F. Sagan_


End file.
